


Birthday Kisses

by waterandsilver



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Kissing, M/M, Miscommunication, Polyamorous Character, Polyamorous Keith, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Surprise Kissing, and i just like exploring the differences between the klance and sheith dynamics, but keith used to have a big ol' crush on shiro cause lbr that definitely happened, more weighted towards klance overall, some consent issues at the start but it's addressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 00:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12469296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterandsilver/pseuds/waterandsilver
Summary: An old Altean tradition is revived in honor of Keith's birthday.In which Keith is kissed by every member of Voltron, and some feelings are realized.





	Birthday Kisses

Keith doesn’t tell anyone it’s his birthday, but they all find out anyway, of course. When he trips down to the lounge that morning, he finds Pidge and Hunk teetering on chairs, trying to pin up a banner between them. He frowns, puzzled about what it could possibly be for, before Pidge manages to get her side to stick, and he catches sight of wonky lettering splashed across the front in bright, alternating paint. ‘Happy birthday Keith!!!!’, surrounded by a liberal amount of smiley faces.

Keith blinks in surprise. He only remembered himself two nights ago. He hadn’t expected the others to know, much less do anything.

“Uh, guys? What are you doing?”

At the sound of his voice, they both jump, Hunk flailing on his chair for a moment before he manages to regain his balance. Hunk looks a little sheepish as he climbs down, but Pidge just shoves a piece of paper Keith's way.

“We couldn’t exactly get store-bought,” she says by way of explanation.

Keith squints down at the hand-crafted birthday card, his eyes drawn to the figure in the corner, a squiggly little body with a big face, a mop of black hair, and lopsided eyes.

“Is that supposed to be me?”

Pidge bristles. “Look, I never claimed to be an artist, okay? Hunk’s is better.”

Keith opens up the card, and sees that there’s a lot of truth to that statement. He actually starts at how accurate the resemblance is. The background is a splash of stars, and he actually looks like himself, if a little cartoonish. Beneath the drawing are six loopy signatures, and Keith traces over them with his thumb. Unexpected emotion bubbles up inside of him. As so often happens, he wants to say something, but he doesn’t seem to be able to draw up the words, and even if he could, he isn’t even sure what he wants to say.

“Wow,” he says eventually. “Uh, thanks, guys. This is really cool. I didn’t know you could draw, Hunk.”

“It’s nothing,” Hunk says quickly. “It’s just a doodle.”

“No, it’s nice.” Keith shifts from foot to foot, knowing that he sounds awkward. He’s never known how to handle being given things, whether its gifts or thanks or help. “But you know you didn’t have to do anything for me, right? I don’t usually do anything for my birthday…”

“What!” comes a cry from behind him. The doors slide open to reveal Lance, ogling at Keith with a look of disbelief.

He’s obviously come straight from his bed, his clothes crumpled and his hair sleep-ruffled. Keith knows he's only a year older than Lance, but he’s fairly sure Lance spends an abnormal amount of time sleeping, even for a teenage boy. Still, his pyjamas are a soft blue and Keith can’t help but admire the way the colour looks on him, against the warm brown of his skin and the dark brown of his eyes. Which is kind of a ridiculous thought, since Keith knows Lance has probably never washed those pyjamas.

Lance yawns in a way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, and makes something flash through Keith’s chest. Then he gives Keith a strange look, and Keith looks away quickly, realising too late that he’s probably been staring for far too long.

“Did I just hear you say you never do anything for your birthday?”

Keith shrugs, a little defensively, still trying to force down the blush that he can _feel_ rising to his cheeks. It’s completely natural, he reasons, to notice that one of his fellow paladin looks – nice. Attractive. Whatever. It’s really nothing out of the ordinary. Especially when he’s barely come into contact with any other humans over the past few months. Of course he’s going to pay a bit more attention to the ones he actually does see.

“Dude,” says Lance, “What’s up with that? Is it a family thing? Do Galra not do birthday parties?”

A few months ago, Keith might have stiffened at the comment. Now, it just rolls off of him. He’s lived around Lance’s teasing for long enough that he knows there’s no real bite behind it. It’s just how the other boy handles things. And he’d rather Lance make melodramatic jokes about his Galra heritage than for it be the elephant in the room, like it had been for a while before, and one that had cast an awfully large shadow.

“If I’m ever invited to one, I’ll be sure to bring you as my plus-one," he shoots back.

A grin cracks Lance’s face in two. “Look guys, Keith made a joke! Someone record it, it might never happen again. It must be a special birthday thing, right? When Keith was a baby he was cursed – it’s a Sleeping Beauty thing, he’s not only allowed to have a sense of humour for one day each year, on his birthday…”

Keith doesn’t even protest when Pidge and Hunk snicker at his expense. He's maybe a little too caught up in noticing how Lance’s smile animates his whole face, stretching from ear to ear and making his eyes sparkle. Okay, so maybe this isn’t the first time that he’s noticed that Lance has a nice smile. And maybe their banter is becoming more of a two-way street – and maybe he’s noticed the way something in him sits up brightly when Lance walks into a room. It still doesn’t mean anything. Lance is still an idiot, and Keith does _not_ do feelings. Period.

He shakes himself out of his daze when the door opens again. Coran enters with the usual spring in his step, Allura on his heels.

“Good morning, paladins!” Coran greets them with a glint in his eye that Keith has a bad feeling is directed towards him. “I’ve heard that today is a special day.”

Keith groans, already dreading whatever he’s planning. “How did any of you even find out?”

“Oh, Pidge very helpfully transferred all of your files from the Galaxy Garrison over to our system decapheebs ago. I’ve been adding anti-allergy medication to your food goo for quite some time.”

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry, Keith,” Allura reassures him. “We’re not planning anything embarrassing. I know you’d probably prefer a quieter affair, judging by the fact that you didn’t even tell us it was your birthday in the first place…” Keith feels a small rush of gratitude towards her, that she understands. It’s not that he wanted to keep it a secret from them, but that he didn’t really want the attention. He doesn’t know what to do with it. “But I thought I’d take the opportunity to bestow a small Altean birthday tradition upon you, since yours is the first birthday since we came together as a team."

Her eyes take on a sombre quality, as they often do when she discusses Altea. Sympathy shoots through Keith. Most of the time, he doesn’t know how to feel about his own heritage, having been completely isolated from one half for the entirety of his life, only to have it thrust onto him now, when he’s thousands of miles from home and from everything he thought he knew. But he can’t imagine what it must be like for Allura, to have her whole culture vanish like that.

"If you don't mind, that is," she adds quickly.

“Sure,” Keith consents, offering her a small smile. “What kind of tradition is it?”

Allura beams at him.

The last thing he expects is for her to cross the distance between them, take his face in her hands and press her lips to his.

Keith freezes, his mind going blank. Allura doesn’t seem to notice. The kiss doesn’t last long, only long enough for him to register that her lips are pillowy soft, to catch the fragrant scent that hangs about her hair, that he’s never noticed before because he’s never been this close to her. Then she’s pulling away, still smiling, oblivious to Keith’s utter shock.

Keith blinks, stupidly. The room is filled with stunned silence. And then, before he can react, there’s another pair of lips meeting his own – and these ones come with a mustache. He’s never imagined kissing Allura, but he’s _certainly_ never imagined kissing Coran, especially not with the gusto that Coran is channelling as he smacks his lips against Keith’s.

“There!” the Altean announces when he springs back, putting his hands on his hips. “Now you’ll have good luck for the rest of the year!”

Keith becomes aware of a nearby spluttering sound, and he finally comes to his senses, jerking back and shooting a glare at Pidge and Hunk as he wipes his mouth.

“Keith?” says Allura, a thread of confusion in her voice. “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? You didn’t respond as receptively as I’d imagined…”

Pidge’s snickering turns into a full-on howl. She doubles up, clutching her stomach. Hunk is still trying to muffle his laughter, stuffing his fist in his mouth, but it’s a losing battle.

“Alright, knock it off,” Keith mutters. He’s pretty sure his face his as red as his paladin costume. In the moment, he’s too embarrassed to pay too much attention to the fact that Lance - unusually - isn’t laughing.

“Receptively!” Pidge chokes.

“It wasn’t that funny, okay!”

“She _kissed_ you, dude. And _Coran_ kissed you! Oh man, you should have seen your face!”

Before Keith can snap back at her, Allura speaks again, looking genuinely confused. “I’m sorry, are mouth-touching customs different on your home planet?”

“Damn right they are!” Lance jumps in, with a ferocity that takes Keith by surprise.

“On Altea, mouth kisses are reserved for days of celebration," Allura explains reasonably.

“Well, on earth, they’re used for – uh, other functions.”

Unexpectedly, Lance turns red, glancing quickly at Keith before folding his arms fast across his chest and looking at the floor. Confusion winds through Keith. It isn’t like Lance to be bashful about things like this.

“You only kiss someone on the lips if you’re romantically interested in them,” Hunk finally explains. “Couples are the only people who generally kiss each other on the lips, on earth.”

As understanding spreads across Allura’s face, it’s her turn to look mortified. She blinks rapidly, and shrinks away from Keith a little.

“Oh,” she says finally, in a small voice. “Ah. Well. Customs certainly are different on Altea.”

“How strange!” exclaims Coran, stroking his chin thoughtfully and not looking even the slightest bit embarrassed. “So you might only kiss a small number of people over the course of a lifetime? On Altea, it’s considered bad luck if a person doesn’t receive a good luck kiss from everyone in the vicinity!”

As soon as the words are out of Coran’s mouth, Keith knows with a sinking feeling what is about to happen. On a normal day, he’s fairly sure that Pidge wouldn’t have even the slightest interest in kissing him. She’d probably gag at the suggestion. But he also knows that she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to embarrass him for the world.

Luckily, he’s always prided himself on his quick reactions. With the advantage of much longer legs, he almost manages to leap out of her range in time. But he underestimated her determination, and her mouth still brushes against his chin in a gross slobber.

“Get off!” he grunts, shoving her away, uncaring that she falls to the floor with a heavy crash. His one consolation is that she doesn’t look much happier about it that he does, pulling a face and scraping at her tongue.

“Ew. Keith tastes gross.”

“If you ever do that again, I’ll cut your cutesy little bayard in two!”

“Hey! My bayard is not cutesy!”

What happens next takes him by surprise. He expected it from Pidge, but not from Hunk. The other boy manages to sneak up on him as he’s half way through delivering another threat, and before Keith knows it, a surprisingly soft pair of lips have pecked his cheek. He jerks in surprise, swivelling around, but Hunk is already backing away hastily, and Pidge is back to laughing at him.

Keith throws his arms up in exasperation.

“Fine! Don’t come crying to me next time you need your asses saved!”

He spins on his heel and heads for the door in a stormy huff.

“Wait, Keith, you can’t go yet!” Pidge cries after him. “You haven’t been kissed by everyone in the vicinity! You’ll have bad luck!”

Keith _should_ keep walking. But when he realises what she means – who she means – his brain short-circuits, and his feet betray him, stopping short.

But for once, Lance doesn’t seem to want to participate in a joke. In fact, he hasn’t moved an inch from where he was.

“What?” Lance says, as all the eyes in the room fall on him. He draws his arms a little tighter across his chest. Keith might not be the best at social interaction, but he knows a defensive stance when he sees one. “It’s just a joke, right? Keith doesn’t believe in that stuff anyway.”

Something twists painfully in Keith’s gut. He tries not to let the words affect him. Why should Lance know any different, after all?

But he can’t help it. It feels like a knife in the gut, the fact that Lance – the only one in the room that Keith might have actually thought about kissing – is the only one who doesn’t want to, who won’t even entertain the thought, not even for a joke. Who’s visibly leaning away from him.

“Yeah,” Keith mutters. “It's just a stupid joke.”

He’s gone before any of them can stop him.

 

***

 

Keith skilfully avoids seeing anyone else for the best part of the day. He doesn’t want to feel like he’s wasted a day that he could have spent usefully, so he heads to the training deck, and lets himself turn the difficultly level down a notch, since it is his birthday. Losing himself in the rhythm of it, he slices through the simulations with graceful ease. When the training session is finished, he’s panting with exertion but satisfied with his performance. He can tell that he’s progressed infinitely since they first arrived.

It’s not hard to make his way back to his room without being seen. The Castle lives up to its name in its surprising number of hidden passages; Keith has discovered a few that have come in useful over the past few months. He makes his way back to his room and takes a long, hot shower, letting himself enjoy the way the steaming hot water ripples against his sore muscles.

He’s almost forgotten about the whole kissing incident by the time he hears a soft knock at the door.

“Okay if I come in?” comes a long-familiar voice from the other side of the door.

Keith scrambles from where he’s lounging on his bed – although it’s not like he has anything to hide. He’s dressed and decent and everything. Still, he pulls himself into a sitting position, and stuffs some dirty clothes out of sight.

“Sure,” he calls.

The door opens and Shiro greets him with a smile. Keith is suddenly highly aware of his wet hair, plastered to his neck, and the soft pyjamas that he doesn’t usually wear in front of anyone else. He ducks his head, half of him hoping he doesn’t look too ridiculous, while the other half of him protests that it doesn’t _matter_ what he looks like; why on earth would it? It’s only Shiro.

He shifts over as Shiro enters, giving him room to sit down on the bed beside him. For some reason (well, Keith  _knows_ the reason, but it's not like he's going to acknowledge it) his stomach is doing strange things at the fact that Shiro is in his personal space like this. Strange, fluttery things.

“Sorry,” says Shiro, even though he doesn’t have anything to apologise for. “I knocked earlier, but you weren’t here.”

“I was training.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Today?”

Keith avoids his eye, the discomfort from earlier returning. He doesn’t get why it’s such a big thing, that he doesn’t do anything for his birthday.

“It’s just another day,” he says. “I don’t get why it needs to be special. It’s not like it’s any different from any other day.”

He almost expects Lance’s reaction from earlier.

But he’s forgotten: it’s Shiro he’s talking to.

“It’s okay,” the other man says. “I get it. You don’t like the attention. You’ve never liked attention when you don’t think you’ve done anything to deserve it.”

Keith blinks. It’s… true. Strikingly true, actually. But he’s never pinpointed the feeling in those exact words before.

“Sorry,” Shiro says again. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I just meant – I know you, Keith. I’m not going to drag you out of here and force you to celebrate or whatever if you don’t want to, okay?”

Keith feels himself relax. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Sometimes Keith thinks Shiro knows him better than Keith knows himself.

Shiro smiles again. That little smile that rests so easily on his lips – that smile that has always made Keith’s head hazy, in a way that big gestures never have.

No matter how long it's been, Shiro is always like a soothing balm, drawing the tension out of everything, out of Keith especially, who’s always needed it so badly, with his tact and his open smile and his kind eyes. He was the one who made Keith feel like the Garrison could be a home of sorts, back when he first arrived, and everything was so much bigger and more official and intense than anything he’d ever experienced, and everyone was a stranger. He hadn’t been Takashi Shirogane the legend back then; he was known as a good pilot, sure, but it was the Garrison. They were literally surrounded by the country’s greatest pilots. He had mostly just been Shiro, the cool older graduate who was working his ass off trying to land himself a place on one of the upcoming space programmes, but who always made time to look after the new arrivals, just because he wanted to.

Keith’s pretty sure that anyone who’s ever so much as held a conversation with Shiro has left half in love with him.

But he thought it would change. After Kerberos, after the shock of what had happened, and then suddenly finding himself alone again, more alone than he's ever been before. And then, after he’d gotten Shiro back, but everything was different; everything he thought he’d known about the universe had gone out of the window, and suddenly he had a thousand expectations and responsibilities that he’d never anticipated…

But it hasn’t changed. There’s still a warm buzz in his chest when Shiro smiles at him, despite everything, despite all the changes the two of them have been through. He thought it was just the afterglow of a teenage crush that had never been able to grow out of, because he never had the closure that he needed. But sometimes, like now, he feels the breathless spark in his chest again, when Shiro meets his eyes, and it still feels very much alive.

Shiro is shifting on the bed, reaching into his pocket.

“Anyway, I just wanted to bring you your present."

“You didn’t need to get me anything," Keith tries to protest, but he's waved off

“Don’t be stupid, Keith. How many years have I known you?”

“You still didn’t need to.”

“Well, I wanted to. And I wanted to get you something that you’d actually like.”

As he reaches into his pocket, Keith finds himself growing curious. He doesn’t know what he’d get himself. He has everything he needs...

“Sorry it doesn't really look like a present. It's kind of hard to find wrapping paper this far out in space…”

But Keith couldn’t care less. His eyes widen in awe. He takes the gift from Shiro, turning it over in his hands, examining it from every angle, although he recognised it for what it is in a heartbeat. He’s seen the other Blades carry them, but he’s never had one himself. Immediately he reaches over and slides a hand under his pillow, pulling out his knife, and testing it out. The blade fits perfectly into the smooth black sheath, the light material curving around all the ornaments that adorn the hilt. As he turns it over under the lights, he can see thin scratches from years of wear and tear running down the sides.

“I asked Kolivan if he had any spares," Shiro explains. "Sorry, I know it’s kind of a second-hand present…”

But a rush of emotion is sweeping through Keith. He can't believe that Shiro got him something that he knew would mean _so much_ to him.

“No – _thank you_. Thank you, Shiro. Seriously. It’s perfect.”

Shiro’s eyes seem to soften.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says. “Put it to good use, won’t you?”

“Is that your way of asking me not to be reckless?”

“Well, you don’t seem to listen to me when I order you not to be, so I thought maybe I’d try a little leverage this time.”

A smile tugs at Keith’s lips. He flashes back on dozens of incidences of Shiro telling him to take care, to stay back; dozens of times of Keith ignoring him. Shiro leans across, leans just a little closer. It’s far too little of a distance for the things it does to the twisting mess in Keith’s chest.

“Seriously, Keith. Stay safe, okay? I know you think you’re invincible, but sometimes… sometimes I worry. And I hate seeing you waving that knife around without a proper cover. Seriously, how many times have you cut yourself on that thing?”

Keith splutters in protest, but internally he knows that the answer is actually far too many times, especially before he had any formal weapons training.

“By the way, there was something else I wanted to ask you about. Allura told me what – ah – happened earlier. The whole ‘Altean tradition’ thing.”

Keith looks away quickly. “Oh. Right. That.”

Just when he thought he was done being made fun of. He braces himself for Shiro to laugh at him, like the others did.

But he doesn’t. His eyes remain serious.

“Are you okay?”

Keith frowns. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Shiro hesitates. “Well, it sounds like they kind of sprung it on you. I just wanted to check you were alright with that.”

Oh—

Keith understands – and an incredible rush of appreciation floods through him. Even if it didn't affect him the way Shiro is implying, he appreciates it nonetheless.

“I’m fine,” he reassures the other man. “Honestly, it was just a joke. It didn’t get to me, or anything.”

Shiro visibly relaxes. “Good.” And now he smiles. “Funny ‘tradition’, huh?”

“You can say that again.” Keith flashes back to the memories of earlier. “Apparently it’s bad luck if I don’t get kissed by everyone in the vicinity.”

The other man’s smile fades a little. Their eyes meet, and suddenly Keith’s heart is in his throat again.

“Is that so?” Shiro says, amusement in his voice, but something more serious in his eyes.

He’s so close. How is Keith supposed to look anywhere but his lips?

Keith doesn’t know what gives him bravery to do it. The younger version of him would never have had the guts. But the years have changed them both, and although shallow nerves are still fluttering in his stomach, he’s not truly afraid. His trust in Shiro is a solid foundation that he’s not afraid to put his weight on. He knows that if the other man pulls back, if he rejects Keith, he won’t be cruel about it, and it won’t ruin what they have. He moves in slowly, hesitantly, giving Shiro the chance to back away if that’s what he wants. But he doesn't. His breaths is hitching, and his eyes are locked on Keith’s lips as they draw nearer. Keith moves closer, closer and closer, until he can see every one of Shiro’s eyelashes, see the shadows they’re casting on his cheeks, and see the tiny freckles he never realised Shiro had dotted around the bridge of his nose. And then Keith closes his eyes.

It’s not like with Allura or Coran – it’s something else entirely, something that sends a shiver through his whole body, all the way to the tips of his toes, like a ghost is passing through him. All the expectations and fantasies of years past melt away; they're nothing compared to the solid reality of Shiro’s lips against his: Shiro as he is, here and now, not the person he was when Keith was sixteen with a crush. Allura might have technically been his first kiss, but this will be the one he’ll think of, when he looks back.

When Keith knows it should end, he draws back.

“Thank you, Shiro,” he murmurs.

The other man’s eyes are still half-shut, and Keith can’t read what’s going on behind them.

“Well, I couldn’t let you have bad luck for a year, could I?”

Keith’s lips quirk.

“Now, the most important question… who’s the best kisser?”

The moment is over. Keith leans back, rolling his eyes.

“You want to know if you win out against Allura or Coran?”

“What about the others?”

“Well, Pidge and Hunk tried but they – uh – weren’t very unsuccessful.”

Shiro chuckles. “I’d have liked to have seen that.”

But Keith’s own smile is quickly fading. “… And Lance looked pretty disgusted at the thought of kissing me at all, so that didn’t happen.”

“Wait, what?”

Keith looks down at his hands, the familiar awful sinking feeling returning to his gut as he remembers what happened earlier. He doesn’t see the frown that crosses Shiro’s face. Not until Shiro reaches forward and touches his hand, compelling him to look up.

“Keith, what do you mean, he looked disgusted?”

Shiro looks utterly baffled. Keith doesn’t know why. It’s not like Lance has ever indicated that he would want to be with Keith before. It’s just that Keith never expected his reaction to be so decidedly negative, especially given that he’s such a natural flirt.

“He started getting all defensive when Coran said that it would be bad luck if they didn’t kiss me.”

Shiro is staring at him like he’s a madman.

“Look… I wasn’t going to say anything, because I didn’t think it was my place. But I thought you and Lance – well, I thought you were working it out, between the two of you.”

Keith doesn’t have the slightest idea what he’s talking about.

“Working what out?” he asks.

“Keith… surely you can’t be that oblivious.”

Suddenly, Keith feels his face turning prickly and hot. No, Shiro _can’t_ be implying that – can he?

“But— but all Lance does is tease me!” he protests.

“Yes, Keith,” says Shiro slowly, in a disbelieving tone, “He teases _you_. Out of everyone. Come on, surely you must have noticed that as soon as you walk into the room, Lance doesn’t look at anyone else.”

And—

Oh. _Oh._

“But…” Keith is grasping for words like a drowning man for driftwood. “He’s still just making fun of me. He can’t – he can’t like me! That doesn’t make sense!”

“Keith, you’ve lived with him for months, you know how he is. He teases the people he likes, not the ones he dislikes.”

Keith shuts his mouth stupidly. His heart is pounding like he’s just single-handedly fought off a robeast.

“Do you like him back?” Shiro asks simply, as if it’s that straightforward.

“I…”

Keith doesn’t know. Yes, he _does_ , he knows he does, but two minutes ago he was kissing Shiro, and it’s a bit too much for his brain to handle.

“You should talk to him.”

“But Lance isn’t exactly short on confidence… surely if he liked me he would have said something? He flirts with people he’s just met!”

“Yes, he flirts with people he’s just met. But have you ever seen him flirt with someone he’s known for a long time? Someone he’s liked for a long time?”

Keith chews on his lip. He wants to believe that Shiro is right – that apparently, it’s been right in front of him, this whole time, but he failed to notice it. But he’s also afraid of getting his hopes up.

“If he does like me, how come he got so defensive when Pidge told him to kiss me?”

Shiro leans back, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Well, I wasn’t there, so I’m not sure… but if Allura suddenly kissed Lance without any warning, how would you feel?”

A hot flash of jealousy shoots through Keith. Shiro reads it in his face, and gives him a ‘there you go’ look. Suddenly, it’s lightning-clear. Keith likes Lance, and according to Shiro, everyone and their mother already knows that Lance likes him too. And they all assumed that _Keith_ knew.

“You should talk to him,” Shiro says again, gently but firmly. “The only way you’ll know for sure is if you do. But Keith – I’m ninety per cent sure that he feels the same.”

“Right,” says Keith, his head a little dazed. “Right. Okay. I mean – yeah, I’ll talk to him.”

Shiro leaves him not long after that, probably sensing that Keith needs to get his head together. When he’s alone, Keith tries to gather his thoughts, but it’s a fruitless task. His mind is impossibly scattered. All of a sudden, all he can think about is how much he _does_ like Lance. Shiro’s comment about Lance not paying attention to anyone else in the room is hitting far too close to home, because Keith is realising it’s so painfully true for _him_. He’s been watching Lance, studying Lance, thinking about Lance for weeks now. Maybe longer. It’s crept up on him so gradually, grudging annoyance turning to admiration as he got to know the other boy better, that he didn’t even realise his feelings were changing.

He needs to see Lance as soon as he can, to make sure Shiro is right. Before he lets himself get his hopes up.

Keith only realises how far gone he is when Lance opens the door, and it feels like the breath has been knocked out of him at the sight of him. Surprise colours Lance’s face when he sees Keith standing in his doorway.

“Keith?” he sounds confused. But now that he knows to look for it, Keith is noticing other little things that he didn’t pick up on before. One of Lance’s hands is twisting nervously, and one foot is folding over the other. He’s… flustered. He’s hiding it well, but it’s there.

“Lance,” says Keith. Nerves shoot through him, a whisper in his ear telling him Shiro was wrong, that Lance couldn’t possibly want him…

“Did you want something?”

Keith’s mouth is dry. But he swallows, and doesn’t let himself give in to the urge to make an excuse and run away.

“I think we need to talk.”

Lance blinks. “Okay. Come on in.”

Keith steps into the room, and Lance reaches to close the door behind them. Nerves are twisting in Keith’s gut. Suddenly he wonders if he’s imagined it all, because the air between them definitely feels flat.

“Your room’s a dumpster,” he says impulsively. It’s true – there are clothes strewn everywhere, so many that he wonders if Lance actually has any hanging in his closet.

And now, Keith sees the familiar challenge spark back into Lance’s eyes. It crackles between them like electricity, familiar, and some of the tension eases of out Keith’s chest. Lance's lip curls.

“Oh, right, like yours is any better,” he scoffs.

“Yes, it is, actually.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Want to see?”

Lance raises an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me back to your room, Kogane?” he says suggestively.

They seem to have drifted together, because Lance was _definitely_ not that close a minute ago, but Keith isn’t complaining.

“So what if I am?” he breathes.

Then, Keith isn’t sure how it happens, but Lance’s lips are against his, and he’s kissing again, kissing with heat this time. Keith grips Lance’s hair and kisses _hard_ , like he’s searching the other boy’s lips, because he wants to understand, wants to feel everything Lance is thinking. He feels Lance kissing back, and Keith’s mind sings at the confirmation that he wants it too.

When they finally pull apart, Lance’s hands have found their way to Keith’s waist, and his are lost in Lance’s hair. _Finally_ , he thinks.

“We should talk,” he says, a little breathlessly.

“Do we have to?” Lance whines, making Keith laugh. He leans in for another kiss, but Keith swats him away, as much as he wants to comply.

“Yes, we do.”

Lance sighs dramatically and backs away. He throws himself down on his bed, but at the last moment he reaches out and grabs Keith’s wrist, pulling Keith down with him. They fall down in a tangle of limbs. Keith hears himself laughing through the happy ringing that’s still filling his ears. He can’t remember feeling this happy in a long time.

Eventually they manage to arrange themselves so they’re side by side on the bed. Lance is flush against him, and Keith’s body likes the way Lance’s body fits against his own.

“Well,” says Lance. “I guess you do have to be the mature one. Being so old and all…”

Keith shoves his shoulder. “I’m nineteen, asshat!”

“God, don’t remind me! You’re practically decrepit. You know what, this isn’t going to work. I need someone my own age – someone young and nubile, who can keep up with me…”

Before he can finish, Keith’s lips are pressed against his again, cutting him off. He feels Lance grin into the kiss.

“We _do_ need to talk,” he says when he pulls away this time. “You’ve gotta admit, Lance – we need to clear some things up.”

Lance nods, props himself up on his elbow. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

“… And then I think we probably need to make out for the rest of the night.”

Lance grins. “To save you from the Altean birthday curse?” he plays along.

“Nope,” says Keith, “We’ve already stopped the curse. You’re going to make out with me because you owe me a birthday present, asshole…”

**Author's Note:**

> I might have stayed up until 3am to get this finished for Keith's official canon birthday. I might have also neglected to read Shakespeare for my seminar tomorrow so I could finish editing it.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked?


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